


broken pieces of the moon

by ninata



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Sort of? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninata/pseuds/ninata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juzo has no illusions. Kyosuke's hope is his to protect, but not his to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	broken pieces of the moon

**Author's Note:**

> yeah this isn't happy  
> chisa's in here veeery briefly and kyosuke being in love with her is implied heavily in here

Four AM. Juzo meets the call with a thumb against the keypad, speaker to ear and the other hand pushing himself into a sitting position in his bed.

“Yeah?”

He’s tired, but he’s not groggy. He’d been up late that night. Juzo’s a light sleeper, practically trained at this point to wake up at the drop of a hat and answer the phone with some form of lucidity. 

The calls normally begin the same way. “Sakakura. You weren’t sleeping, were you?” It’s not always this late, not always so out of the blue. Sometimes it’s in person, sometimes it’s while Juzo sits behind his desk and bides his time before another case. But it’s always the same deal, the same clean cut voice of Kyosuke Munakata.

“What’s it this time?” Juzo swings his legs out of bed, running a hand back through his bedhead. With his luck, it’ll be another riot to quiet down.

How did it start? Back in Hope’s Peak Academy as students, things had been simple. Kyosuke was always the important one. Kyosuke was always going to end up as a higher up at Hope’s Peak. Juzo was punching his way through tournaments, sweat slicked hair and bloody knuckles wrapped up in gauze. Chisa was always behind them, supporting them, but Kyosuke always lingered too long at her touch and always watched her with those  _ eyes  _ as she left.

So how did it start? If Kyosuke watched Chisa, then Juzo watched Kyosuke. Careful and calculated, even lines and even colors, Kyosuke wasn’t a hair out of place and something about that fascinated Juzo. In Juzo’s chaos, Kyosuke was order. He would share his notes, he would eat lunch with him, he would come with Chisa to his matches and work out with him. A manly bond? Juzo wanted so much-- selfish, childish wants, eat-you-up-at-night wants and words he couldn’t bear to force out.

“I’d like to see you.” It’s a breath Juzo can almost feel in his ear. No, the calls aren’t always like this. Mostly it’s favors, Juzo cracking skulls in with his fists and dumping bodies in dumpsters. Juzo knows death like the back of his calloused hands. Kyosuke says jump, Juzo asks ‘How high?’ There’s a thousand ghosts hanging in his shadow, and if he could bear to be superstitious, it would’ve destroyed him by now.

They were teenagers. Things escalated. It started with an offer, it tumbled out of control. Kyosuke didn’t want him-- Juzo always knew that. It was never about that. It was about lust, it was about control and power and Kyosuke dangling what Juzo wanted so terribly just out of reach. Kyosuke would take him the way he wanted. Juzo never asked for anything else.

Another thing started with an offer. “Would you like to work for me?” Soon Juzo’s fists weren’t just for winning prizes. The blood doubled, tripled, quadrupled and soaked through Juzo’s skin. The first kill was the hardest. The rest felt like clockwork. He never told Chisa. Neither of them did. Despite their friendship, many things went unsaid.

Juzo walks to the shelter Kyosuke lives in, making sure to weave and cover himself enough to lose anyone tracking him. He knocks on the door in the pattern they’d agreed on.

The door barely has time to close before Kyosuke has him against it, a hand sliding between his legs. Juzo’s breath catches, he curses himself for the pace of his pulse. It’s been so long and he’s still weak to those eyes. Kyosuke’s other hand tilts Juzo’s chin.

“Don’t you think this is wrong?” Juzo gasps, and Kyosuke gives a laugh that makes Juzo’s knees turn to jelly.

“Do you?” Kyosuke asks.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’ve always told you the same thing. If you don’t want to, say no.”

Juzo doesn’t. How could he?

Juzo has loved Kyosuke since he met him. Long fingers, broad shoulders, the weight of the world already there when he was sixteen. Kyosuke was born a leader. Juzo swore, and he meant it with every ounce of his being, that he would protect him; his dreams, his hope, his smile. Juzo threw away so much for him, everything he thought he was going to be, everything he had wanted before he met him. Was that wrong? Was that so horrible?

Kyosuke didn’t need to ask. Kyosuke didn’t need to manipulate him. Kyosuke didn’t need to twist him or turn him any which way. Juzo was his to begin with. He couldn’t tell you why, but something in Kyosuke captured him, something kept Juzo by his side when it seemed like the world would collapse on them. Riots, bombings, giant comical bear machines razing Japan, the world kept screaming at humanity to end itself and Kyosuke still believed in hope. Juzo would take a thousand bullets, a knife to the stomach, anything and everything that despair would throw at them. It was worth it. To see that smile, it was enough. For their eyes to meet, it was enough. To be like this, tangled up with each other, even if it was selfish of him, this was more than enough for Juzo to sacrifice himself.

There were no doubts in Juzo’s mind. The path was always clear. Juzo would protect Kyosuke from any threat. He’d get his hands dirty so Kyosuke wouldn’t have to. With every expletive that hangs in the air, every gasp of breath that leaves Juzo’s lips, the words he stifles and the declaration that is never spoken but always known, Juzo would rip this world to shreds and build it anew in his name. As Kyosuke’s touch burns into his skin, makes him forget his own fucking name, he swears all over again that he’d go the moon for this man.

When Kyosuke’s finished, it’s like being handled with gloves. There isn’t an ounce of tenderness in his touch. Juzo fumbles for a cigarette and shifts uneasily against the empty feeling that clouds his senses. Gingerly Kyosuke plucks one out of the same box, lighting it and passing off the lighter in a smooth motion.

Kyosuke lifts his phone to his ear. It’s morning now, and Juzo squints at the rising sun.

“Yukizome? ...No, I’m not doing anything right now.”

_ Not anymore, at least.  _ Juzo thinks. He looks over at Kyosuke, at the gentle smile painting his features in soft hues. Unintelligible speech in Chisa’s voice buzzes quietly from the speaker. Juzo stays silent.

Does he wish Kyosuke would smile like that at him? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought it.

But this is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> AM I THE ONLY FIC IN THE SHIP TAG????? anyway beta by my good pal sink and shaqfu!


End file.
